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Tag Archives: sequels

5/20/17: In Space, No One Can Hear You Shrug

21 Sunday May 2017

Posted by phillipkaragas in Uncategorized

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2017 films, Alien, Alien: Covenant, Billy Crudup, Danny McBride, Demien Bichir, film franchise, Guy Pearce, James Franco, Katherine Waterston, Michael Fassbender, prequels, Prometheus, Ridley Scott, sci-fi-horror, sequels

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It ain’t easy successfully continuing a film franchise after decades have passed: audiences change, filmmakers change, society changes…it’s a real dice toss. After all: who wants to potentially tarnish prior glories and dampen whatever warm feelings fans might have garnered over the years? For every Fury Road (2015), you have a Godfather Part III (1990)…like I said: dice toss.

Tasked with following up his own Alien (1979), Ridley Scott responded with a befuddling prequel, Prometheus (2012): part origin story, part gorgeous creation fable, it used the Alienverse as a springboard for a discussion on the creation of mankind and its inevitable destruction. Light on the franchise’s beloved Xenomorphs, Prometheus was its own beast, warts and all, although scarcely deserving of the derision piled upon it by franchise fans. For the follow-up, Alien: Covenant (2017), Scott doubles-down on the surface trappings of the Alienverse while neglecting to add the elements that made Alien so special in the first place:  genuine heart and soul.

Taking place a decade after Prometheus, Covenant introduces us to the crew of the titular generation ship that’s transporting thousands of cyrogenically-frozen colonists to a new home in a far-flung galaxy. We meet Oram (Billy Crudup), the ship’s second-in-command; Daniels (Katherine Waterston), this film’s Ripley; pilot Tennessee (Danny McBride); security-chief Lope (Demian Bichir); android Walter (Michael Fassbender, pulling double duty as sinister David); Karine (Carmen Ejogo), the resident biologist; and another half-dozen or so crew-members/cannon fodder.

After a freak accident costs the team their captain (James Franco, in a walk-on), Oram makes the questionable decision to investigate a strange audio transmission that comes from a previously undiscovered planet. Despite the protestations of ultra-sensible Daniels, the crew adjusts course and are promptly marooned on a world that seems to serve as both paradise and necropolis. In short order, they meet the planet’s sole inhabitant, Prometheus’ David, and find out the terrible truth behind the dead planet they’ve found themselves on.

Let’s get one thing out of the way, right off the bat: Covenant is not a good film. It’s not a good Alien film, in particular, but it’s also not a good film, in general, arguably representing the nadir of Scott’s impressive career. Lackluster CGI notwithstanding (generously speaking, the look is generic and the creature effects are severely lacking), the film suffers from a bad script (the dialogue is awful and the character building is non-existent), generally dismal performances (only Fassbender really acquits himself, with Waterston and McBride coming off particularly awkwardy) and the overall feeling that this is only a placeholder film for a much grander “finale.”

This is a film that strives to introduce new variants on the traditional Xenomorph (the new, albino version could have come from any of a dozen recent films) while shoehorning in scenes like the one where a hesitant character is practically goaded into sticking his head into one of the iconic egg pods, with the resulting re-introduction of the face-hugger coming not as an organic shock but a tired and foregone punchline to a bad joke. This is the worst case of “having your cake and wanting to eat it, too”: Covenant gorges on leftovers like they’re going out of style.

None of the cast or characters stick in the mind after viewing, unlike the original. Katherine Waterston is a poor patch on Sigourney Weaver, her Daniels more a reactive agent of the story than any iconic hero. Crudup blends into the background, as does Bichir and, to be fair, pretty much any actor that isn’t Fassbender. This isn’t to say that he puts out career-defining work, mind you, just that his Walter/David combo winds up with the lion’s share of the film’s smartest material: talk about a stacked deck!

On the plus side? The gore effects are plentiful and fairly juicy (for what that’s worth) and there are moments that approach the chilly, visual grandeur that elevated Prometheus to something beyond its B-movie trappings. The Pompei-inspired world surface is undeniably cool and the hints we get of a primordial source for the original contagion prove more tempting hints than anything substantial but I’d be lying if I said they weren’t both appreciated and well-done. Scattered moments out of a 2+hour film don’t really signify a smash success, however, no matter how you do the math.

As someone who genuinely enjoyed and respected Prometheus, I really wanted Covenant to knock this out of the park: that Scott managed to whiff it so completely comes as a bit more than a disappointment. In truth, however, the film lost me from the get-go and never got me back: there was no point where this felt like anything more than the disposable middle entry in a longer, better series. From the unnecessary intro to the disposable characters…from the forgettable creature designs to the truly stupid script…from the terrible, Starship Troopers-esque shower scene to the tedious, frenetically-edited action beats…Alien: Covenant has very little to recommend it.

There were plenty of great ideas here (the notion of an all-powerful mad scientist with a God complex trapped on a dead planet, by itself, is solid gold) but precious little in the way of skillful execution. Scott is capable of much better: he’s proven it, time and time again. By trying to please everyone, however, the pro and anti-Prometheus camps alike, Scott ends up disappointing everyone: neither significantly advancing the Prometheus storyline nor adding anything of value to the classic canon, Covenant just exists…nothing more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

7/13/15: Judas Strikes Back

22 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by phillipkaragas in Uncategorized

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Amy Pietz, Annie Barlow, Caity Lotz, Camilla Luddington, Carl Sondrol, Carmen Cabana, cinema, crime-scene cleaners, Dallas Richard Hallam, family secrets, FBI agents, film reviews, films, ghosts, Haley Hudson, haunted houses, horror, horror film, horror movies, Judas, Judas Killer, Mark Steger, mediums, Movies, multiple directors, multiple writers, Patrick Fischler, Patrick Horvath, profilers, returning characters, Scott Michael Foster, sequels, serial killer, serial killers, Suziey Block, The Pact, The Pact 2, thrillers, Trent Haaga, writer-director

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Of all the films that might naturally lead to sequels, I’ll freely admit that Nicholas McCarthy’s modest serial killer/ghost chiller The Pact (2012) would probably be one of the last to come to mind. This isn’t to disparage McCarthy’s film, mind you: although it certainly doesn’t re-invent the wheel, The Pact is well made, entertaining and features a genuinely surprising, if rather nonsensical, climax. It also features a visually striking villain with Mark Steger’s gaunt, silent Judas Killer, which is always a plus in any horror film. For all of that, however, The Pact was still a largely by-the-numbers indie horror film, not radically different from many others in a very crowded field.

This being the “Age of Franchise,” however, it was probably only inevitable that even something as small and self-contained as The Pact would receive a sequel: after all, who could have predicated that something like Final Destination (2000) would be up to the fifth film in its franchise, with two more in the wings? In that spirit, we now find ourselves with The Pact 2 (2014), the continuing adventures of Annie Barlow and her lethal (now deceased) uncle Charles, aka the Judas Killer. While several of the actors from the previous film reappear to reprise their roles, including Caity Lotz and Haley Hudson, one of the personnel who does not return is original writer-director McCarthy. This time around, the reins have been handed over to the writing-directing team of Dallas Richard Hallam and Patrick Horvath. Does the new film prove that The Pact warrants franchise status or should this have been a one-and-done from the get-go?

Shaking up the original film’s focus, The Pact 2 concerns itself with June (Camilla Luddington), a plucky crime-scene cleaner/aspiring graphic novelist who also appears to be having nightmares about the previous film’s evil Judas Killer. June is dating Officer Daniel Meyer (Scott Michael Foster), the put-upon local cop whose been assigned to a new series of murders that bear plenty of similarities to the Judas Killer’s earlier onslaught. Problem is, Judas has been dead and buried for a week, at this point, so it’s highly unlikely that he’s running around, butchering women and cutting off their heads. Or is it?

That’s just what FBI profiler Agent Ballard (Patrick Fischler) is trying to figure out. An expert (obsessive?) on Judas, he shows up in town to investigate the new crimes, annoy the shit out of Officer Meyer and drop a bomb on June about her lineage. Turns out June’s actual mother isn’t drug-addicted wreck Maggie (Amy Pietz): her real mother was Jennifer Glick, also known as one of Judas’ original victims. After June begins to experience some very similar paranormal happenings at her house, she decides to contact the first film’s hero, Annie Barlow (Caity Lotz), deciding that kindred spirits need to stick together.

Before long, Annie and June are diving headlong back into the Judas case, investigating June’s link to the dead serial killer, as well as the real story behind Jennifer Glick’s murder. Throughout, Ballard hangs out in the margins, acting just oddly enough to make us question his true motives. Has the infamous Judas Killer found some way to return from the dead, hacking and slashing his way straight to June, or are the new murders the handiwork of a sick, sadistic copycat, a twisted individual who looks to Judas as inspiration for his own terrible acts?

All things considered, The Pact 2 is actually a surprisingly good film, certainly equitable to the original, albeit for different reasons. For one thing, it’s an actual sequel: picking up only a week after the events of the first film and featuring several of the original cast members, there’s a genuine sense of continuity here that you rarely find in other indie horror sequels. In some ways, it’s roughly parallel to the close time-frames utilized in Halloween (1978) and Halloween II (1981): despite being made by two different directors, the films feel connected in ways that later entries never would, despite the omnipresent figure of Michael Myers. It’s definitely one of The Pact 2’s biggest assets, especially when we get more of Lotz and Hudson (as well as Mark Steger’s Judas, of course).

Tone-wise, The Pact 2 is also a much different beast than its predecessor. Despite the supernatural elements and inherent ghostly angle, the sequel is, essentially, a serial killer procedural: most of our time is spent with June, Annie and Agent Ballard investigating the case from various angles, either together or separately. We do still get all of the hallmarks from the first film, of course: doors open and close, shadows appear in the background, people are hauled around by unseen forces…you know…the usual. These elements are definitely downplayed, however, even though the sequel is, by definition, much more supernaturally oriented than the original was.

Acting wise, The Pact 2 is on par with the original, probably thanks to the return of actors like Lotz, Hudson and Steger. While the character of June isn’t quite the equal of the first film’s Annie, Luddington gives a solid performance and certainly makes the most of what she’s given. Foster doesn’t make much of an impression as the slightly drippy Officer Meyer, although Fischler seems to be having a blast as the quirky, smart and brutally condescending FBI profiler. There are plenty of hints of Jeffrey Combs’ equally nutty agent from Peter Jackson’s The Frighteners (1996) here and Fischler always stops just short of gobbling the entire scenery buffet, leaving some for the rest of the cast. We also get a very brief cameo from writer/director/Troma-naut Trent Haaga, although it’s not much more than a throwaway bit.

There are problems here, of course: Hallam and Horvath have a dismaying tendency to overdue “mirror gags,” even to the point where we get what (to the best of my memory) might be the first “reverse mirror gag” that I’ve ever seen. There’s also a repetitious quality to the numerous scenes of Ballard pensively reviewing case files: watching a guy flip through papers is probably the least pulse-pounding thing one can see in a horror film and we get quite a bit of that here. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t point out that the climatic twist here is much less clever and surprising than the one in the first film. While I didn’t call the exact specifics, it was an “either/or” situation, so I had about a 50% shot, either way.

For the most part, The Pact 2 isn’t much different from a lot of direct-to-video/streaming indie horror films, although there’s a general level of care and attention to detail that’s certainly refreshing. Hallam and Horvath have a fairly unfussy style (although June’s numerous “flashes” are always too loud and obnoxious) and if the whole film looks slightly cheaper than the original, it’s never enough to take one out of the action. As a horror film, The Pact 2 is just okay: the ultimate resolution really owes more to the serial killer side of things than the vengeful ghost side, after all, and the haunting aspects are run-of-the-mill, at best. I’m also extremely dubious of the very obvious set-up for an additional entry: at this point, the connection to the original films would have to be so tenuous as to be one of those “in name only” affairs and those are rarely quality films.

That being said, I’ve seen plenty of films much, much worse than The Pact 2. There’s no denying that Steger’s Judas is a great villain and franchises have been hung on much less than that, to be honest. If we’re going to keep seeing permutations of The Pact on into infinity, here’s to hoping that they follow the lead set by the first two: while we’ve already got more than enough brainless sequels out there, we could also use more films that actually have something to say. While The Pact 2 probably won’t end up on any best-of lists, it ends up being a worthy sequel and that, on its own, is worthy of its own list.

6/6/15 (Part Three): Making Wrongs Equal a Right

12 Friday Jun 2015

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'80s action films, '80s films, action films, Anthony Franciosa, auteur theory, Ben Frank, Charles Bronson, cinema, crime thriller, David Engelbach, Death Wish, Death Wish 2, director-editor, E. Lamont Johnson, Film auteurs, film franchise, film reviews, films, gang rape, Golan-Globus, Jill Ireland, Jimmy Page, Kevyn Major Howard, Laurence Fishburne, Menahem Golan, Michael Winner, Movies, Paul Kersey, rape, rape-revenge films, Richard H. Kline, Robin Sherwood, sequels, set in Los Angeles, Silvana Gallardo, street gangs, Stuart K. Robinson, Thomas Duffy, thrillers, Tom Del Ruth, vigilante, vigilantism, Vincent Gardenia, Yoram Globus

death-wish-ii

When we last left everyone’s favorite vigilante, Paul Kersey (Charles Bronson), he had just finished avenging the rape of his daughter and murder of his wife by blasting half the criminal population of New York City straight to kingdom come. After being given a one-way ticket to Chicago by the NYPD (rather than reveal their complicity in not locking him up), we get the notion that Kersey won’t be any less forgiving to the Windy City’s scum than he was to the Big Apple’s. What’s a guy like this do for an encore?

As it turns out, he goes to Disneyland. Well, not quite: he actually goes to Los Angeles, which was probably a lot closer to New York City in the dawning years of the ’80s than it might care to admit. Our lovable avenging angel’s next act, the follow-up to 1974’s Death Wish, would be Death Wish 2 (1982). As with most sequels, Death Wish 2 would attempt to up the ante on the first film, featuring a more graphic rape scene, a more cold-blooded vigilante and a more over-the-top, ineffectual police force. The film would feature the same director, action-auteur Michael Winner, and a musical score by Zeppelin’s Jimmy Page that featured more guitar solos than a ‘Battle of the Bands’ competition. Death Wish 2 would also do something a little more insidious: by jettisoning Kersey’s previous moral quandaries, the film would place its sympathies almost wholly in the Dirty Harry (1971) school of “shoot first, ask questions later.” Rising crime rates…street gangs…the average citizen running in terror from armed lawlessness? Welcome to the ’80s, Paul: enjoy your stay!

When we meet Paul Kersey again, not much has changed since the fist time, aside from the location. He’s still an architect, he’s still taking care of traumatized daughter, Carol (Robin Sherwood) and he’s still got a romantic interest, albeit a new one: reporter Geri Nichols (Bronson’s real-life spouse, Jill Ireland). He’s also the same take-no-shit asskicker that he was before, as we see when he runs afoul of a highly colorful gang of street toughs, led by the squirrely Nirvana (Thomas Duffy) and counting one Laurence Fishbourne III among their august ranks (his absolutely insane sci-fi shades deserve their own film franchise, perhaps some kind of interstellar private-eye thriller).

The gang lifts Paul’s wallet and decides to head to his place to enact a little “justice” over his rough treatment of Jiver (Stuart K. Robinson). When they don’t find Paul at home, they opt for gang-raping his housekeeper, Rosario (Silvana Gallardo), in what has to be one of the most vile, protracted and gratuitous rape scenes in the history of cinema. When Paul and Carol return, the gang knocks him unconscious, shoots Rosario dead and takes Carol captive. After yet another gratuitous rape scene, Carol jumps through a plate-glass window and ends up impaled on a wrought-iron fence. Needless to say, this sequence of events pushes poor Paul over the edge and he takes to the streets once again, intent on hunting down and slaughtering the animals responsible for brutalizing Rosario and Carol.

To complicate matters, the same NYPD chain-of-command who let Kersey go in the first movie get wind of his recent activities in L.A. and begin to get a little worried: if Kersey gets caught, he might decide to blab about the NYPD opting to shuffle him out of town rather than do the paperwork. In order to prevent this, they send Detective Frank Ochoa (Vincent Gardenia), Kersey’s foil from the first film, to Los Angeles in order to permanently deal with the problem. The only problem, of course, is that Ochoa doesn’t necessarily think Paul’s doing anything wrong. Neither do the citizens of L.A., for that matter, as they cheer on their vigilante hero in the same way that the New Yorkers did almost a decade earlier. Will Paul put down his weapons of war before he loses the rest of his humanity or have the bad guys pushed him too far this time? One thing’s for sure: the scum of Los Angeles have a death wish…and Paul Kersey’s just the guy to grant it.

One of the biggest issues involving sequels is usually the disparity between the first and second films in a series: in many cases, different creative personnel handle the various films, particularly if they were never conceived as a unified “series” in the first place. Death Wish 2 avoids this pitfall, in part, by having Michael Winner return as director: both Death Wish 2 and its predecessor share a similar aesthetic and feel (despite swapping the first film’s cinematographer, Arthur J. Ornitz, for Part 2’s team of Tom Del Ruth and Richard H. Kline) which definitely helps to weld the films together. Unlike the completely over-the-top Death Wish 3 (1985), the second film still has enough of the first’s DNA to seem like a natural succession rather than just another product.

As mentioned earlier, however, Death Wish 2 certainly fulfills the stereotype of sequels in one big way: there’s more, more and more of absolutely everything here. While the rape scenes are more prolonged and nasty than the first film, the personalities of the various gang members are also bigger and more outrageous than the original. Keyvn Major Howard’s “hardcore Hare Krishna,” Stomper, could have been lifted directly from The Road Warrior (1981), while Thomas Duffy’s Nirvana gets one particularly ludicrous bit where he plows through several dozen cops as if he were an exceptionally pale version of the Incredible Hulk. While the gang from the first movie (which included an appropriately bug-eyed Jeff Goldblum) weren’t exactly the picture of restraint, the creepoids in Part 2 are one slim pen stroke away from complete comic book territory.

The political commentary is also much more pointed and one-sided than in the previous film. Gone are Paul’s “bleeding-heart liberalisms,” replaced by the kind of steely-eyed disdain for criminal lives (and rights) that mark any good ’80s crime fighter. Right from the get-go, we get talking heads and worried news reports that not only talk about the escalating crime rates but compare the whole situation to “being struck by an enemy bomb.” This is war, according to the film, and it’s us or the bad guys. Unlike the first film, there’s no need for hemming and hawing on Kersey’s part: he already did the heavy emotional lifting last time…all he has to do, here, is load the gun and pull the trigger, as many times as necessary.

Not only is Death Wish 2 a much nastier film than its predecessor but it also marked a shift in Bronson’s career from his earlier tough-guy ’70s roles into films that were much bleaker, more explicit and all-around more unpleasant. After Death Wish 2, Bronson would go on to 10 To Midnight (1983), The Evil That Men Do (1984), Death Wish 3 (1985) and Kinjite (1989), all regarded as some of the nastiest “mainstream” thrillers to hit in an altogether over-the-top decade.

Despite my lifelong appreciation for Death Wish 3 (oddly enough, it was one of the films that my father and I found ourselves watching the most, over the years, possibly due to the overt cartoonishness of it all), I’ll readily admit that Death Wish 2 is the better film. In many ways, I equate the first two films in this series to the first two films in the Halloween series. Carpenter’s original, like the first Death Wish, was a lean, mean statement of purpose, a film that was just as much art as exploitation, with very few frills and a simple, but effective, structure. Halloween II (1981), like Death Wish 2, has a very similar aesthetic to its predecessor yet manages to be much bleaker, more explicit and, arguably, less fun. The direct sequels also added storylines that made the inherent structure more complex, if not necessarily better (the Det. Ochoa bit never really amounts to anything and is, in and of itself, a pretty massive plot-hole), something that’s also par for the course with most sequels.

At the end of the day, Death Wish 2, like its predecessor and the vast majority of these ultra-grim and graphic ’80s crime thrillers, is always going to be an acquired taste. Whereas the Dirty Harry series always traded on Eastwood’s ever-present snark and way with a quip, the Death Wish series (at least for the first few entries) was a much more dour affair. While both series’ trade on the notion of a world run rampant and in serious need of an ass whuppin’, the underlying point behind the Death Wish series seems to be thus: your loved ones will be cut down in front of you, no one will help and it will be up to you to avenge them. In many ways, it’s easy to see the character of Dirty Harry as being a sort of right-wing superhero (for the record, despite any personal inclinations, Dirty Harry will always be one of my personal heroes), while the character of Paul Kersey is much muddier and more complex.

When he started out, Paul didn’t want to kill but felt he had no choice. Here, we get the first inclinations that he’s begun to develop a taste for it. By the time we get to the third film, where he gleefully blows a reverse-mohawked punk through the side of a building with a rocket launcher, we’d be forgiven for thinking that he’s getting a kick out of it. Is that progress? I’ll let you be the judge.

2/28/15 (Part One): The Tin Man Rides Into the Sunset

10 Tuesday Mar 2015

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'90s films, 1990s films, action films, Bradley Whitford, Bruce Locke, CCH Pounder, cinema, cyborgs, Daniel von Bargen, Delta City, Detroit, dystopian future, evil corporations, Felton Perry, film reviews, films, franchises, Fred Dekker, Jill Hennessy, John Castle, Judson Vaughn, Mad Max, Mako, man vs machine, mercenaries, Movies, Nancy Allen, near future, Night of the Creeps, OCP, Officer Lewis, Officer Murphy, Peter Weller, rebels, Remy Ryan, Rip Torn, Robert Burke, Robert DoQui, RoboCop, RoboCop 3, sci-fi, sequels, set in Detroit, Shane Black, Stephen Root, street gangs, The Monster Squad, writer-director

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Sometimes, a film can hit just about all its marks and still be disappointing: take Fred Dekker’s RoboCop 3 (1993), for example. Here’s a movie where expectations are already set fairly low (this is the third one, after all, and the first without Peter Weller behind the helmet), yet there’s every possibility to be not only pleasantly surprised but genuinely blown away…after all, Dekker is the unmitigated genius behind two of the greatest genre films of all time, Night of the Creeps (1986) and The Monster Squad (1987). In his more than capable hands, RoboCop 3 could have been the caustically funny, surprising joy that RoboCop 2 (1990) should have been. Instead, the film ends up being a thoroughly competent, middle-of-the-road sci-fi action film with only hints of Dekker’s demented genius. An auteur like Dekker reduced to the role of hired gun? Say it ain’t so, Joe!

The film kicks off with a pretty familiar scenario: the loathsome OCP is still trying to build their dream project, Delta City, over the charred bones and lower-class citizens of near-future Detroit. As in the previous RoboCop films, Detroit is still a war-zone: this time around, the prime offenders are a mob of stereotypical “punk” marauders dubbed The Splatterpunks, who seem to delight in setting any and everything ablaze with Molotov cocktails. In a telling development, OCP is taken over by the Japanese mega-conglomerate, Kanemitsu Corporation, making Detroit the first U.S. city to come under foreign rule. The new president, the titular Kanemitsu (Mako), is a no-nonsense businessman who’s tired of OCP continually missing its deadlines for breaking ground on Delta City.

In order to help along the process of claiming property that the residents don’t want to part with, OCP employs a collection of mercenaries known as Urban Rehabilitation Officers (Rehabs, for short). The Rehabs are, ostensibly, being used to fight the rising crime wave: in reality, they’re being used to forcibly remove the residents of the various slums that OCP wants to demolish. The residents are moved to “refugee camps” where they promptly seem to drop off the grid: the ultimate case of the “haves” doing away with the “have-nots.”

Our intrepid heroes, Officer Murphy (now played by Robert Burke, who looks a little like Weller, if you squint) and Officer Lewis (Nancy Allen) get caught up in the struggle when a group of homeless revolutionaries, led by scrappy Bertha (CCH Pounder) and Nikko (Remy Ryan), a pint-sized hacker who’s ably to handily turn lethal ED-209s into loyal “puppies” with the push of a button, butt heads with the Rehab officers, led by the odious Commander McDaggett (John Castle). In the ensuing chaos, Officer Lewis is killed (RoboCop’s sad “Officer down” line is just as ludicrous on paper as it is in the film) and Murphy is branded a murderous renegade. As OCP and the Kanemitsu Corporation fill the airwaves with bogus stories about RoboCop’s villainy, OCP’s CEO (Rip Torn) and Kanemitsu work behind the scenes to eliminate the cyborg avenger and clear the last roadblock to the long-delayed Delta City. To this end, Kanemitsu unleashes his own cyborg, a lethal-killing machine known as Otomo (Bruce Locke). Will RoboCop and the revolutionaries be able to stop OCP and the Rehabs once and for all or does the dawn of Delta City begin now?

While the first film was a fairly streamlined, subtly ironic sci-fi action film, ala Mad Max (1979), the sequel employed the “bigger is better” aesthetic, pumping up the action scenes while letting some air out of the more subversive ideas. In the process, RoboCop 2 became a much sillier, louder and goofier film, albeit one with enough inherent parallels to the original to serve as a more than suitable follow-up. RoboCop 3, by contrast, is the most cartoonish of the three films, as well as the first of them to earn a PG13 rating: as expected, this means that the film is exponentially less gritty and gorier, although the body count is still exceptionally high…in this case, it just means that hordes of baddies “fall down,” ala old Westerns, rather than explode in red sprays of arterial fluid.

By itself, this isn’t really a problem: the second film was, in reality, only a few small steps removed from a complete cartoon and (brain surgery scene notwithstanding) had about as much impact. The bigger issue comes from the fact that the whole film is obviously pitched at much younger audiences: all of the issues are very black-and-white and the very character of Nikko feels like nothing more than an attempt to insert a pre-teen hero into the mix. Compared to the foul-mouthed urchins in RoboCop 2, Nikko is Little Orphan Annie and the whole thing has a trite feel that definitely feels aimed at the lowest common denominator.

Acting-wise, RoboCop 3 is extremely broad, although the style does tend to work, since the film is inherently broad and silly. Burke does a suitable job as Weller’s replacement, although he doesn’t sound anything like our original Officer Murphy. We get a few “regulars” here, such as Nancy Allen, Felton Perry and Robert DoQui, although they’re pretty much relegated to the background for the majority of the film, allowing newcomers like Ryan, Pounder and Stephen Root (always a joy to see) to step up to the plate. For his part, Rip Torn turns in the kind of performance that he’s been autopiloting for way too long, although his smug bureaucrat fits the film’s heart-on-sleeve politics like a glove.

More than anything, I’m disappointed that so little of Dekker actually shows through in the final product. Short of a few scattered scenes and details (the OCP exec jumping out of a window while his wife harangues him on the phone, RoboCop driving the blazing, Pepto-pink pimp-mobile around like it was a tank) that are explicitly reminiscent of Dekker’s tongue-in-cheek approach, the film is depressingly generic and middle-of-the-road. It’s always bummed me out that Dekker only directed three films in his entire career and this was one of them: it’s equivalent to Francis Ford Coppola’s entire filmography consisting of The Godfather (1972), Apocalypse Now (1979) and Jack (1996). At the very least, Dekker has recently been rumored to be involved in Shane Black’s new Predator reboot: fingers crossed that this translates into him directing the film, although a Dekker script is (usually) a thing of beauty, so that’d be fine, too.

Ultimately, RoboCop 3 is not a terrible film: in many ways, it’s no worse (or better) than a hundred other direct-to-video, ’90s era “gems.” While the film is competently done, however, it also possesses no real sense of identity or even much in the way of distinguishing features: it just “is,” for better or worse. Since the third entry seemed to effectively nail the coffin lid shut (at least until the recent reboot), it’s fair to say that our heroic man of steel had already passed his expiration date by this point, a mere six years after he debuted. Quite the pity, really: with Fred Dekker writing and directing, RoboCop 3 should have been one of the most unforgettable franchise entries ever. Instead, the film is so generic as to be completely forgettable: now that’s irony that’s right up Fred Dekker’s twisted little alley.

 

2/25/15 (Part Two): The Tin Man Rides Again

10 Tuesday Mar 2015

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After RoboCop (1987) became a box office hit and a bit of a pop culture phenomenon, it was only inevitable that we’d be graced with a sequel, sooner or later. Enter Irvin Kershner’s RoboCop 2 (1990), a movie that manages to up the ante in every way possible, as befits pretty much any action/sci-fi sequel you might care to name. As the director behind such blockbusters as The Empire Strikes Back (1980) and Never Say Never Again (1983), Kershner was a much different filmmaker than the scrappy, sardonic Paul Verhoeven and it shows: RoboCop 2 is a much goofier, sillier and more over-the-top film than its predecessor…not surprisingly, it’s also a whole lot of fun.

We’re now a few years past the original film and nothing seems to have really changed: OCP is still in charge of Detroit’s police department, who are still threatening to strike; Delta City is still on the horizon as the ultimate “beautification” project; the streets are still over-run with crime and marauding gangs; and Officer Murphy (Peter Weller), aka RoboCop, is still partnered up with Officer Lewis (Nancy Allen). The big issue this time around is the emergence of a lethal, ultra-addictive new street drug called Nuke: the drug is being pushed onto the streets in mass quantities by Cain (Tom Noonan), a religious fanatic/drug dealer/wannabe-messiah who holds the city in the grip of fear thanks to his numerous bombings and terrorist activities…think of Jim Jones and The Joker mashed into one roiling ball of lunacy and you’re in the right neighborhood.

Turns out that OCP engineered the Nuke epidemic and resulting crime wave as a way to stretch Detroit’s resources and force them to default on a huge loan: if the city misses a single payment, OCP gets to swoop in and take it all, free of charge. Bastards! They’re also developing a new type of cyborg, an “improved” version that OCP’s scientists have cleverly dubbed “RoboCop 2.” The only problem with the new cyborgs are that they’re a little…well, a little…glitchy: in a bravura moment, one prototype blithely guns down an entire room of onlookers while another one rips its one face off, screaming in (literal) blood terror. The problem, as any good Frankenstein could tell you, is the brain: the project’s head researcher, the sinister Dr. Faxx (Belinda Bauer), has yet to find a brain that can survive the automation process…but you better believe it’s not for lack of looking.

After RoboCop disobeys a direct order (thanks to more of those pesky residual memories of his), OCP decides to make him more “obedient”: Dr. Faxx inputs several dozen new directives into his hard-drive, changes which, effectively, turn RoboCop into a big weenie. Once the stoic face of criminal ass-kicking, RoboCop is now a grinning, puppy-hugging, rule-following, bureaucratic wuss: as can be expected, he’s also a much less effective police officer now that he’s pathologically “nice.” As Cain and his crazy gang ramp up their assault on the city, Officer Lewis and the rest of the force must, somehow, snap RoboCop back to his old self. At the same time, Dr. Faxx approaches Cain with a once-in-a-lifetime offer: the genuine chance to become a god…or at least as close to it as he’ll ever get. Will RoboCop be able to get his mojo back in time to duke it out with the new-and-improved Cain or does OCP finally hold the fate of Detroit in its greedy, little hands?

While the majority of the humor in the first film was more subtle and blackly comic (aside from the glorious scene where RoboCop drags Leon out of the “punk” club by his hair, of course), all of the humor in the sequel is much more overt and front-and-center. This extends to the numerous fake commercials which break up the action, much as they did in the original film: this time around, the commercials are much more over-the-top and function less as cutting satire than as broader buffoonery. In some ways, the tone of the film is much closer to the sequels to Lloyd Kaufman’s Toxic Avenger (1984) in their depiction of a dystopic world gone wildly, giddily off the tracks. Like the first film, the world-building in the sequel is strong, forging a good bond between the two films. At one point, a commercial for “Sunblock 5000” casually mentions that the ozone layer is gone, while a throwaway news bit discusses a rogue satellite frying Santa Barbara in the same way that one might ask someone to pick up their dry cleaning. The details are all quite fun (if more than a little silly) and help to make the film that much more immersive.

If I really have a complaint with the film (other than the fact that it’s a solid half-step down from the original), it has to be with the main villain: while Tom Noonan really sinks his teeth into the role of Cain and runs with it, he’s absolutely no match for the inspired insanity of Kurtwood Smith’s iconic Clarence Boddicker. In many ways, Noonan is constantly upstaged by Gabriel Damon’s Hob, the ridiculously foul-mouthed kid who slings Nuke for Cain’s gang: by the latter half of the film, Hob has become the defacto leader (albeit briefly) and that’s when the villains really seem to take off. In an action film like this, you really need unforgettable, hateful villains and RoboCop 2’s just pale to the originals, unfortunately.

Cast-wise, the film brings back many of the original actors, including Weller, Allen, Dan O’Herlihy, Felton Perry and Robert DoQui (as the ever-suffering Sgt. Reed). This, of course, has the effect of creating an even stronger connection with the first film, a connection that’s reinforced by the production design: while many sequels have a “more of the same” feel, RoboCop 2 definitely feels like a continuation of a longer narrative, even if that narrative feels a bit unnecessary, by the end. In fact, it’s easy to see this sense of “continuation” as intentional, since the film has a completely open ending that not only doesn’t fully resolve the action but also directly sets up another film (a set-up which the third film, unfortunately, doesn’t make good on).

Even though RoboCop 2 is a much sillier, more weightless film than the first, there’s still a lot to like here: the more overt comedy leads to some great scenes like the ridiculous telethon where Mayor Kuzak (Willard Pugh) desperately tries to raise the funds to save Detroit (with the help of a fiddle-playing contortionist, no less!) or the giddy setpiece where a gang of Little League players commit a violent robbery and are let loose by the newly “nice” RoboCop, since they’re just kids. One interesting aspect of the film is how often we get treated to some rather eyebrow-raising moments involving the numerous child actors: they’re all saltier than a pack of sailors, with a particular favorite line being “Go fuck a refrigerator, pecker-neck!” To be honest, I don’t think I can recall a film where kids swore this much (there are plenty of films where kids engage in violent behavior, so that was considerably less surprising) and it made me bust out laughing more often than not.

Weller handles the new comedy angle with aplomb (his “nice” scenes are genuinely funny), which has the effect of humanizing Murphy to a much greater extent than the first film ever did. It’s great to have Allen back, as well, although it doesn’t feel as if she gets as much to do as she did the first time around. And, above complaint notwithstanding, Noonan is always a reliably unhinged performer: if he didn’t have such big shoes to fill, I doubt if I would have anything bad to say about his performance, to be honest.

While the sequel is a great deal goofier than the original, it’s not necessarily any less gratuitous: this time around, we get treated to an incredibly graphic brain transplant scene, along with the goofy “brain stem with googly eyes” bit that triumphantly ends the final battle. Since the film is pitched at such a comic-book level, however, the whole thing actually feels less violent than the original, which managed to ground everything in a more realistic, if still fantastic, milieu.

For the most part, I thoroughly enjoyed RoboCop 2, even if it was distinctly inferior to the original. There’s plenty of great action sequences, some genuinely funny comedic bits and a strong connection to the first film, making it pretty much essential viewing for anyone who enjoyed Verhoeven’s original. While this is nowhere hear the follow-up that either Terminator 2 (1991) or Aliens (1986) was, RoboCop 2 is a perfectly decent continuation of the franchise and a good way for fans to another dose of some good old-fashioned, cyborg law and order.

2/9/15 (Part Two): Between a Russian and a Hard Place

13 Friday Feb 2015

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action-horror, auteur theory, Ørjan Gamst, Best of 2014, Charlotte Frogner, children in peril, Christian Wibe, cinema, co-writers, dark comedies, Dead Snow, Dead Snow 2: Red vs Dead, Derek Mears, Dod Sno, English-language debut, Evil Dead, extreme violence, favorite films, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, flashbacks, foreign films, gore films, Hallvard Holmen, Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters, horror franchises, horror-comedies, Ingrid Haas, Jocelyn DeBoer, Kristoffer Joner, Martin Starr, Matthew Weston, Movies, multiple writers, Nazi zombies, Nazis, Norwegian films, Peter Jackson, Russians vs Nazis, sequels, special-effects extravaganza, Stig Frode Henriksen, Tommy Wirkola, Vegar Hoel, voice-over narration, writer-director, zombie hunters, zombies with weapons

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At one point in Tommy Wirkola’s Dead Snow 2: Red vs Dead (2014), intrepid American zombie hunter Daniel (Martin Starr) turns to our put-upon hero, Martin (Vegar Hoel), and tells him, “I’ve seen thousands of zombie movies and this is not in any of them. You’ve created a whole new genre here, man!” Wirkola might not have invented a whole new genre with Dead Snow 2, per se, but he certainly seems to have perfected the one he’s working in: in every way, shape and form, Wirkola’s long-awaited sequel to his outstanding Dead Snow (2009) is top-shelf entertainment, 100 minutes of pure, unadulterated zombie-killing bliss. Bigger, better, funnier and more explosive than the original, Dead Snow 2 is that very rarest of sequels: it takes the original film, turns it up to 15 (sorry, Tap: this amp is way louder) and gives fans every single thing they wanted, along with lots of things we didn’t know we needed. I hate to draw a line in the sand but here goes: Dead Snow 2 is the single greatest Nazi zombie flick in the long, storied history of moving pictures. Wirkola has done it again.

In a stroke of pure genius, Dead Snow 2 picks up from the very shot that ended the first film, providing one of the very best examples of continuity possible (even more impressive when one considers the five-year gap between the films): all of the principal crew return, along with the previous film’s Vegar Hoel, allowing both films to dovetail as neatly as possible. After escaping from the villainous Herzog (Ørjan Gamst) in a white-knuckle car chase that culminates by introducing the undead commandant to the front grill of a speeding semi (right after he loses his saluting arm), Martin crashes and wakes in the hospital.

Afforded a little breathing space, Martin notices two things right off the bat: he’s handcuffed to the bed and he appears to have a new right arm. A nearby police officer cheerfully lets Martin know that they suspect him of massacring all of his friends from the first film, while a doctor cheerfully tells him that they found his severed arm in the vehicle and decided to reattach it. That’s right, folks: Martin’s new right arm is Col. Herzog’s old one! Faster than you can say “Evil Dead 2,” Martin’s possessed arm is killing the living shit out of everyone around him, forcing him to go on the lam.

As Martin tries desperately to control Herzog’s murderous limb, the undead Nazis rampage across the countryside, slaughtering dozens of unsuspecting civilians at every turn, only to resurrect them as additional zombie soldiers. Herzog’s army grows ever larger and it seems that all might be lost until Martin gets an unexpected call from the Zombie Squad, an American team of professional zombie hunters (according to Daniel): they’re heading across the world to help bail him out and squash the undead Nazi threat once and for all. As we see, however, this group of “professionals” actually consists of Daniel and his two friends, Monica ( Jocelyn DeBoer) and Blake (Ingrid Haas): they operate out of Daniel’s basement, have arguments about the merits of Star Wars vs Star Trek and have, to the best of our knowledge, never actually set eyes on a member of the living dead.

We don’t get to pick our heroes, however, and it soon becomes apparent that Martin, the Zombie Squad and new recruit, Glenn (co-writer Stig Frode Henriksen), are all that stands between the unsuspecting citizens of Norway and an honest-to-god Nazi invasion. When the chips are down, however, Martin will be forced to rely on a rather unorthodox solution: he’s going to have to use Herzog’s arm to resurrect the slain members of a rival Russian POW group. With undead Russians on one side and undead Nazis on the other, however, Martin and his team will quickly learn that leaping from the frying pan to the fire is a mighty fine way to get burned. Will they be able to stop the zombies in time or is the entire world on the cusp of a terrible, bleak new dawn?

As someone who absolutely adored the first Dead Snow, I’ll admit that I was more than a little nervous when I first sat down to watch the sequel: after all, this could only be a disappointment, no matter how small, and actually ran the risk of affecting my positive feelings towards the first film. Turns out I should have had a little more faith in ol’ Tommy: not only is Dead Snow 2 not a disappointment, it’s actually one of the very best films of 2014, horror or otherwise.

The key to the film’s success comes from amplifying those elements that really worked in the first film (the over-the-top action setpieces, the sly humor) and downplaying or eliminating the elements that weren’t quite as successful (namely the fact that Martin is kind of a drippy hero, for much of the film). While the first film had plenty of creepy, more traditionally horror-related scenes (such as the outhouse stalking), Dead Snow 2 is almost completely action-oriented. There are plenty of scenes devoted to zombie mayhem, don’t get me wrong, but nearly all of them are pitched as frenetic, over-the-top action moments, rather than more traditionally “scary” ones. Some of the best scenes in the film are the impossibly mean-spirited ones where the zombies rampage through veritable mobs of innocents, dispatching them in some truly inventive, eye-popping ways. Nothing’s sacred in the film (literally, as one of the plot points involves killing and resurrecting a priest), which anchors the film completely and totally in “early Peter Jackson” territory. From the gag where a tank rolls over a sandbox full of kids to the one where a zombified Nazi guts someone, uses the intestines to siphon gas out of a car and then gives a cheerful thumbs-up, Dead Snow 2 practically holds up a banner that says “Anything’s possible” and dares you to think otherwise.

In fact, this element of “anything goes” is one of the most intoxicating aspects of Wirkola’s film: there’s invention, originality and individuality to burn here, yet it always feels like the biggest surprises/delights are still over the horizon. By the time we get to the resurrected Russians, a ridiculously thrilling fight atop a moving tank and the simply fantastic finale (featuring, quite possibly, the best use of Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart” that anyone could come up with, ever, period), the film feels like it’s going to keep piling on badassitude until our collective heads explode. This is the kind of film where the final credits roll and you realize that your chest hurts because you’ve been holding your breath without realizing it.

As with the first film, Wirkola and Henriksen’s script is rock-solid and almost impossibly funny: they’ve doubled-down on the number of gags in this go-round, gifting us with classic moments like the one where Herzog tries to Sieg Heil without his missing arm, the outrageous scene involving Martin and the kid in the hospital that manages to be horrifingly hilarious and some truly inspired bits involving a friendly zombie (Kristoffer Joner) that manage to one-up Bub in every way. The film is a lot funnier than the original, yet still manages to deliver plenty of hardcore/badass moments: the bleeding stained-glass windows as Herzog strides into the church deserve to be iconic and the scene where Daniel turns into a full-on zombie slaughterer is a real thing of beauty. As with the first film, Wirkola perfectly melds the horror and humor: this time around, everything just hits harder because it’s all so much better. Talk about a success story!

As with the first film, Dead Snow 2 looks and sounds absolutely killer: the effects are all top-notch and, with the exception of a few dodgy CGI blood shots, look as real as they need to. Acting-wise, the sequel is head-and-shoulders above the original (which was, itself, no slouch): besides the reset of Martin as a more traditional hero (ala Ash), we also get the always reliable Martin Starr as Daniel; another great, silent turn from Gamst as the vile Herzog (he really gets into the character this time around, giving us a handful of scenes that do the impossible and almost (just barely) begin to humanize the monster) and the brilliant addition of Hallvard Holmen as the impossibly obnoxious Gunga, a rural police chief who’s half-way between a Keystone Kop and James McAvoy’s repellent Bruce from Filth (2014). DeBoer and Haas are quite wonderful as Daniel’s perpetually feuding cohorts (DeBoer’s “May the force be with you” is a definite highlight) and Henriksen is equally great as Glenn: the scene where he, singlehandedly, stands up to the entire Nazi battalion is pure poetry and a real fist-raiser.

I’ve always enjoyed Wirkola’s films (I’ve seen the original Dead Snow quite a bit in the five years since its release and I seem to be one of the few people in the world who really enjoyed Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters (2013)) but there’s no denying that Dead Snow 2 marks a new evolution in his filmmaking. At this rate, Wirkola stands a very good chance of becoming the reigning clown-prince of horror-comedy: the level of polish and quality here is astounding. With one foot firmly in the outrageous gore comedies that influenced him (those looking for the red stuff need not fear: Dead Snow 2 is, quite possibly, one of the most splatterific films since Romero’s unassailable Dawn of the Dead (1978)) and the other in the kind of bright, big-budget multiplex fare that have always been anathema to “real” horror, we might be looking at the next, great “uniter,” similar to Edgar Wright. With a sequel to Hansel & Gretel in the works, I’m willing to wager that Wirkola plans to take his game to the next level. Bully for him: as a die-hard member of Team Tommy, I, for one, cannot wait.

12/31/14 (Part One): School is Back in Session

19 Monday Jan 2015

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ABCs of Death, Aharon Keshales, Alejandro Brugues, Alexandre Bustillo, Ant Timpson, anthology films, Best of 2014, Bill Plympton, Bruno Samper, Chris Nash, cinema, Dennison Ramalho, E.L. Katz, Erik Matti, favorite films, film reviews, films, foreign films, Hajime Ohata, horror, horror films, horror-comedies, Jerome Sable, Jim Hosking, Juan Martinez Moreno, Julian Barratt, Julian Gilbey, Julien Maury, Kristina Buozyte, Lancelot Odawa Imasuen, Larry Fessenden, Marvin Kren, Movies, multiple directors, multiple writers, Navot Papushado, Robert Boocheck, Robert Morgan, Rodney Ascher, sequels, shorts, Soichi Umezawa, Soska Sisters, Steven Kostanski, The ABCs of Death 2, Tim League, Todd Rohal, Vincenzo Natali

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Count me as one of the number of people who love anthology films. Going all the way back to the old Amicus days, anthology films have always been a great way to inject a little variety into your viewing, sort of the equivalent of sitting down with a good short story collection rather than trudging through a full-length tome. Over the years, there have been plenty of anthology films, good and bad, but the basic formula has remained pretty constant: take a good wrap-around segment, add some nice varied shorts with effective twists and shocks et voila! The perfect anthology film!

When The ABCs of Death (2012) came around, the concept was pretty unbeatable: give twenty-six different genre directors a different letter of the alphabet and have them fashion a short, with the only rule being that the shorts must represent death, in some way, shape or form. While some of the shorts were pointless, stupid and/or tedious, many of them were blackly-comic mini marvels and I found the whole thing to be a great way to get exposure to a wide variety of genre filmmakers in small, bite-sized morsels. Needless to say, when a sequel, The ABCs of Death 2 (2014) was announced, I found myself more than ready to absorb the next twenty-six entries in this informative little series. The consensus this time around? Part Two is bigger, better and outrageously fun, pretty much the best party film of the year and a must-see with a big audience, if one gets the chance. A sequel that’s better than the original? You can bet your blood-stained, bottom dollar on it!

As with the first installment, ABCs of Death 2 sees twenty-six wildly divergent filmmakers each tackle a different letter of the alphabet, with the only intention being to depict grievous bodily harm in as many colorful, gonzo and awe-inspiring ways as possible. Some filmmakers take an explicitly humorous take on the proceedings, such as Jim Hoskin and Erik Matti’s offerings, whereas others treat the subject as deadly serious (Kristina Buozyte and Bruno Samper’s exquisite “K is for Knell,” Dennison Ramalho;s brutal “J is for Jesus”). While there’s no real theme, per se, the trend in this particular iteration is towards films from Latin and South America, which provides an interesting contrast with the more Asian-oriented films from the previous ABCs of Death. Despite this, however, ABCs of Death 2 still provides a nice global overview of horror filmmaking, from the United States to Australia, from Africa to Israel, Mexico, Japan and the Philippines.

Any time you have twenty-six different films from twenty-six different filmmakers, you can expect a wide range of quality and effectiveness: in other words, there are going to be at least a few clunkers amid the gems. While I’ll admit that a few of the shorts in The ABCs of Death 2 rubbed me the wrong way (I actively hated Todd Rohal’s P-P-P-P Scary! and was really disappointed by the shorts turned in by Bill Plympton, the Soska sisters and Larry Fessenden), the ratio of great-to-meh was overwhelmingly tilted in the right direction. When the shorts were great, such as with the E.L. Katz, Robert Morgan, Kristina Buozyte/Bruno Samper, Robert Boocheck, Vincenzo Natali, Chris Nash, Steven Kostanksi and Julien Maury/Alexandre Bustillo films, they were practically transcendent, revealing fascinating, new takes on familiar horror tropes and cliches.

In fact, one of the greatest things about The ABCs of Death 2 is just how genuinely interesting the various shorts are. With very few exceptions (Rohal’s short is almost unbearably bad), even the lesser entries are, at the very least, oddball and interesting enough to gloss over any issues with production values, acting, scripts, etc… and make them worthwhile views.

I’ll also take a minute to point out that the effects on display range from the very basic to the very mindblowing: I’m pretty sure that Kostanki’s Wish segment will impress just about anybody, with its absolutely masterful blending of CGI, stop-motion and practical effects. Gorehounds will be happy to know that ABCs 2 very rarely shies away from the hardcore: restraint is not a virtue, as far as these particular shorts are concerned and some of the segments hit some truly nightmarish plateaus.

All in all, ABCs of Death 2 was one of the biggest surprises I had all year. While I enjoyed the first film, I had no reason to expect that the follow-up would be anywhere near this good: when it’s firing on all cylinders, ABCs of Death 2 is, easily, one of the best horror films of the year. There are certain images in this film, especially with Steven Kostanski’s brilliant “W is for Wish,” that I’ll probably never get out of my head…and that’s a very good thing. When it’s good, which is often, ABCs of Death 2 is the kind of film that horror fans will definitely want to remember and cherish. At this rate, I’m already looking forward to ABCs of Death 4: bring it on, you magnificent bastards…bring it on!

10/31/14 (Part Two): The Unblinking Eye

04 Thursday Dec 2014

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31 Days of Halloween, Amy Lalonde, auteur theory, Chris Violette, Dawn of the Dead, Day of the Dead, Diary of the Dead, Film auteurs, found-footage films, George Romero, Greg Nicotero, horror franchises, Joe Dinicol, Josh Close, Land of the Dead, living dead, Megan Park, Michelle Morgan, Night of the Living Dead, Philip Riccio, R.D. Reid, Scott Wentworth, sequels, Shawn Roberts, student films, Tatiana Maslany, voice-over narration, writer-director, zombie apocalypse, zombies

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At one point in Diary of the Dead (2007), George Romero’s fifth official “Dead” film, one of the characters wonders what compels us to stare at an accident but not offer assistance: we’ve become a society of cold, removed observers, she notes, as dead on the inside as the walking corpses that relentlessly hunt the living. It’s a thought-provoking observation and one that seems especially prescient in this era of social media and “cellphone journalists.” These days, Good Samaritans appear to be a thing of the past, concert-goers watch bands through their phones while standing three feet from the stage and the general public can receive nearly 24/7 celebrity updates via Twitter, Instagram, etc. Technological advancements have made it so that humans are more inter-connected than at any previous point in our history: never before has it been more possible for complete strangers on opposite sides of the world to “talk” than it is now. This, of course, makes it even more puzzling when close friends sit next to each other and text rather than, you know…speaking: never before have we been more connected yet simultaneously unplugged from the “real world.”

Like all of his “Dead” films, Romero’s Diary of the Dead is anything but a straight-forward zombie flick: Romero, after all, was the guy who inserted social commentary into the very DNA of the zombie film all the way back in 1968 with the incendiary Night of the Living Dead, taking on race relations, global unrest and the Vietnam War with equal aplomb. The follow-up, Dawn of the Dead (1978), took the very notion of consumerism and capitalism to task as survivors of the global zombie epidemic hole up in an abandoned shopping mall and live like royalty while the mindless flesh-eaters gather en masse outside the gate like so many rotting barbarians. Day of the Dead (1985) further explored Romero’s fascination with the notion of “evolving” zombies, as the undead gained more human attributes even as the actual human characters descended into a cartoonish maelstrom of prejudices, misplaced rage and violent tendencies. Romero followed up Day of the Dead twenty years later with the action-oriented Land of the Dead (2005), which tackled the eternal war between the haves and the have-nots, with the rich barricaded away from the world in a literal ivory tower before being turned into a smorgasbord by the living dead.

With Diary of the Dead, Romero takes an unflinching, if achingly obvious, look at the world of media and journalism, particularly the “infotainment” that has replaced our formerly unbiased news coverage as of late. Jason Creed (Josh Close), the student filmmaker at the heart of Diary’s storyline, has a very simple reason for being so compelled to finish his documentary about the zombie crisis, “cleverly” entitled “The Death of Death”: he wants to make sure that the truth makes it out there, somehow, amidst all the “conventional news resource bullshit.” In an era where it can sometimes be difficult to make out any individual voices, thanks to the excess of information bombarding us from every angle, Jason wants to be the voice of truth, a beacon in the wilderness: that he’s willing to constantly put himself and his friends in harm’s way to do so might make him some sort of martyr…or it might make him just as dangerous as the shuffling dead that continue to pop up everywhere.

Utilizing a found-footage aesthetic for the first time in the franchise’s history, Romero throws us right into the middle of the zombie apocalypse and gives us a front-row seat to the chaos, thanks to Jason’s unblinking camera and the host of other media (cell-phone videos, security cameras, news broadcasts) that help fill in gaps in the story. In some ways, Diary of the Dead serves as a kind of prequel to the other films (albeit one with a very different timeline), since it purports to show the period of time right after the dead begin to overtake the living. This ends up putting it in roughly the same time-period as Dawn of the Dead (1978), although the action has been wholesale moved forward about 30 years, which must certainly be the cost of doing business with a series that first kicked off in 1968.

As Jason and the rest of his film-crew, including Tony (Shawn Roberts), Ridley (Philip Riccio), Francine (Megan Park) and Eliot (Joe Dinicol) are out in the woods shooting a low-budget mummy epic (along with their film professor, Prof. Maxwell (Scott Wentworth)), reports begin to pour in about the dead returning to life and attacking the living. After opting to abandon his school project in lieu of turning his camera on the events around them, Jason leads his group back to their school so that he can meet up with his girlfriend, Debra (Michelle Morgan, whose voice-over narration quickly wears out its welcome). Everywhere they turn, however, there seems to be nothing but mounting danger. To make matters even hairier, the students notice that news broadcasts of the events are now being edited and given particular spins, slants which have nothing to do with disseminating the truth and everything to do with pushing forward an agenda.

Tension rises within the group, however, when Jason’s constant filming begins to wear on everybody: at one point, he even stays with his camera as its charging while the rest of his group are off trying to save one of their own. For Jason, his documentary is the only thing that matters now, a time-capsule that can explain the disaster to whoever manages to follow them. The rest of the group, however, tend to see things a bit differently: to them, Jason is hiding behind his camera in order to avoid facing the terrible reality that surrounds him. “There will always be people like you who want to document,” Prof. Maxwell scoffs at one point, venom dripping from every syllable. Even Debra begins to take her boyfriend to task, arguing with him about his unceasing focus on filming above and beyond everything else, including their personal safety. As the group begins to fracture and splinter, they all agree to make their way to the supposed safety of Ridley’s luxurious house. When they get there, however, they discover that their nightmare isn’t winding down: it’s just beginning.

Unlike Land of the Dead, Diary of the Dead is a distinctly more horror-driven enterprise, lacking the over-the-top action setpieces and overwhelming firepower of the fourth film while returning to the social commentary of the second film. On the surface, this would seem to make Diary a better “Dead” film than Land but, alas, that’s not necessarily the case. The acting here, for the most part, is a decided step down from the previous film, bringing us dangerously close to the over-the-top thespianism of Day of the Dead. The zombie elements, while well-done, almost seem a bit perfunctory, although there are two suitably gruesome setpieces involving a barbecued State Trooper and jar of acid to a zombie’s acid, respectively, that are pretty damn impressive. As with Land of the Dead, Greg Nicotero handled the zombie fx, which lends this a similar look, if on a decidedly lower budget.

One of the biggest issues with Diary of the Dead ends up being its highly melodramatic and constantly hectoring tone: so much of the film seems to devolve into amateurish young actors shouting at each other and sticking cameras in their faces that it sometimes has the feel of a student production, which is rather ironic considering the storyline. Michelle Morgan and Josh Close, in particular, get rather difficult to take seriously by the end since they’re both so damn intent on proving how serious they are: Debra’s voiceover is a constant presence in the film and, while it may deliver the occasional thought-provoking whopper (such as the aforementioned bit about modern folks and their detachment), it’s just as often prone to deliver ennui and vaguely revolutionary talk that does nothing but detract from the visual aspect of the film.

Unlike previous efforts like Night of the Living Dead or Dawn of the Dead (or even Land of the Dead, for that matter), the “message” in Diary of the Dead is right upfront and constantly shoved in the audience’s face: mainstream media is nothing but bullshit fear-mongering and independent news sources, whether individuals with cell-phones or underground agencies, are the only source for truth in an increasingly confusing world. It’s a great, valid message, one that I (personally) couldn’t agree more with. On the other hand, Romero is so heavy-handed with the message, so constantly “on-point” that it becomes wearing, after a while: the film is kind of like a street-corner preacher with an apple-box and a megaphone, shouting at passerby as they try to scurry away.

Where Diary really exceeds, surprisingly enough, is as a found-footage film. Romero addresses many of the inherent issues with found-footage films (added music/effects, unknown camera angles, constant filming during stressful situations) throughout the course of the movie and comes up with some rather reasonable twists on the formula. The film also handles its morbid humor in a more subtle way than Land of the Dead, recalling the drier tone of films like Night of the Living Dead or Day of the Dead. I’d also be remiss if I didn’t mention that the final scene of the film is amazingly powerful, easily the equal of the iconic final moments of the original Night of the Living Dead. It has the quiet horror, subtle irony and terrible beauty that has always marked the best of Romero’s work, whether zombie-related or not…it’s a purely cinematic moment and, without a doubt, the strongest in the entire film. Were there more moments like the final image, perhaps my ultimate opinion on Diary of the Dead would be a bit more positive. As it stands, however, I always find myself a bit disappointed by this film: any Romero is a good thing, of course, but I can’t help but wish for a return to the glory days.

10/2/14 (Part Two): Holiday Leftovers

03 Friday Oct 2014

Posted by phillipkaragas in Uncategorized

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'80s films, '80s slasher films, 31 Days of Halloween, Charles Cyphers, cinema, Cliff Emmich, co-writers, Dean Cundey, Debra Hill, Dick Warlock, Donald Pleasence, electronic score, film reviews, films, Halloween, Halloween 2, Halloween II, horror, horror franchises, horror movies, hospitals, Jamie Lee Curtis, Jeffrey Kramer, John Carpenter, Lance Guest, Laurie Strode, Leo Rossi, Michael Myers, Movies, Nancy Stephens, Pamela Susan Shoop, Rick Rosenthal, Sam Loomis, sequels, slasher films

halloween2

Memory’s kind of a funny thing. I remember really disliking Rick Rosenthal’s Halloween 2 (1981) when I first saw it, probably because I felt cheated that John Carpenter didn’t direct it. I was a huge fan of the original Halloween (1978) and I’m pretty sure that the thought of a Carpenter-less continuation of the story really ticked me off. Several years ago, I decided to watch the entire Halloween franchise in one fell swoop and I, likewise, remember being disappointed by the second entry, albeit not as disappointed as I was by the Busta entry.

This, of course, brings us to the present day where I decided to screen Halloween 2 back-to-back with the Carpenter classic. I assumed that my findings would be pretty much the same as they were in the past: this was going to be a lame cash-grab. At this point, I figured I could finally give up on the film and relegate it to the special hell reserved for sequels like Wishmaster 4 (2002) or Psycho 3 (1986). And then something kind of funny happened. Perhaps it was the warm glow from seeing the always-dependable original film…perhaps it was my complete focus on the picture at hand…regardless of the reason, I ended up…well, kinda liking the flick. It’s no patch on the original, mind you, and only barely in the same universe, quality-wise, but it actually makes perfect sense as a direct sequel (to a point) and would have brought the series to a pretty decent conclusion if the producers would have opted to end it here.

If younger me would have paid closer attention back in the day, I probably would have realized that Halloween 2 didn’t have as tenuous a relationship to Carpenter’s film as I thought it did. Not only did Carpenter and partner Debra Hill co-produce the film but they also co-wrote it and Carpenter once again provided the musical score. Dean Cundey, the masterful cinematographer from the first film, returned to shoot this, as well, insuring that the overall look would, at the very least, be pretty similar. Many of the original cast members, including Jamie Lee Curtis, Donald Pleasence and Charles Cyphers, reprised their roles from the first film and the movie actually takes place immediately after the events of the original movie: not as in “One week later…” but as in “5 minutes later…” In fact, beyond the fact that Carpenter handed the directorial duties over to Rosenthal, both Halloween and its sequel look pretty damn similar.

All of this being said, Halloween 2 is most definitely not in the same league as Carpenter’s film. For one thing, the film falls victim to the biggest sin of sequels: more is not necessarily better. If there was one building blowing up in the first movie, level a city block in the second. Did Rambo kill ten guys in the second movie? Better give him forty for the third. The idea of escalation doesn’t technically help the quality of the film so much as keep setting a higher and higher bar for future sequel makers to leap over. In the case of Halloween, we go from a small handful of deaths in the first film (including at least a couple off-screen ones) to a small battalion in the second. It’s a curious move for the series, since the original film was all about mood and suspense with very little actual gore. Halloween 2, on the other hand, is much freer with the red stuff, including a thoroughly ridiculous scene where a victim’s blood is completely drained out onto the floor, creating something akin to a lake. There’s also a scalding, an eyeball puncture, throat slashings and the like, although nothing ever seems too gratuitous or mean-spirited (even the pool of blood pays off with one of the best ever slasher film deaths…let just say, people should always watch their step…).

The film’s other big issue is the introduction of several extraneous plot elements that seem destined to add depth to the mythos but instead just end up unnecessarily cluttering the narrative. We get druid lore, a surprise lineage revelation, a power struggle at the asylum and an angry mob throwing rocks at the old Meyers place, none of which actually pay off in any meaningful way. Part of the problem with all these plot threads is that it seems to completely push poor Jamie Lee Curtis off the screen: while Laurie was the hero of the first film, she gets so little screen-time here as to be more of a supporting player, while Loomis ends up picking up the hero reins and running roughshod. It’s also a bit disconcerting to see the strong, resolute Laurie of the first film reduced to the weak, bed-ridden Laurie of the sequel: Curtis doesn’t even sound the same in this, seeming to dial the passion down a full notch or two.

Despite all of this, however, Halloween 2 is actually a pretty decent film. It’s much more of a generic slasher than the first, especially since it trades the rich autumnal warmth of Carpenter’s film for the clinical frigidity of the hospital, but it’s briskly paced and no one element really wears out its welcome. The connection to the first film is so seamless as to be almost dizzying, which is a nice trick: while the film begins with “rerun” footage from the first, there’s a point where it seamlessly morphs into the “new” footage and I really couldn’t tell. I know where the original film ends, of course, so seeing the film “continue” past that point was disorienting but also kinda cool. It’s also nice to have another Carpenter soundtrack (I absolutely love his film scores), even if the score for Halloween 2 isn’t as evocative as the original: it’s a bit more strident but all of the familiar beats are there.

There are also plenty of nicely staged setpieces and some really nice shots, although none of this has the creeping claustrophobia of the first film. The aforementioned blood scene has a great payoff, as does the scene where someone passes out on a steering wheel, alerting Michael to Laurie’s presence. There’s also a really nicely staged shot where Michael strangles someone in the background while someone dithers around in the foreground, unaware. And I must certainly admit extreme fondness for the scene where a curious Michael peeks in through an old couple’s window and sees them watching Romero’s Night of the Living Dead (1968): I’m positive that’s Carpenter referencing his NOTLD nod from the first film (watch the scene where Loomis and the nurse drive up to the asylum in the rain and tell me the white-clothed patients don’t look like Romero’s similarly garbed undead), although I’ll freely admit that it might also just be happy coincidence.

Although I firmly believe that the original Halloween never needed a sequel (for me, Michael’s body disappearing and Laurie bursting into tears finish that story more definitively than “The End” ever could), I’ll also admit that Halloween 2 isn’t a terrible sequel. At the very least, it’s the last time that the series ever really bothered with any true connection to the first film, beyond the Michael Meyers connection, of course. Taken on its own, it’s a pretty decent little slasher with several great scenes but nothing spectacular. Combined with the first film, however, it actually ends up offering a bit more closure. The additional plot details may be largely unnecessary but they do make sense, in context, and the two films become a sort of duology. Halloween 2 may not be a necessary film and it certainly won’t make anyone forget the original but it ends up being a pretty good supplement to Carpenter’s film. If you’ve always given the film the cold shoulder, go ahead and give it a try: you might not be blown away but I’m willing to wager that you’ll enjoy yourself. Younger me was wrong: Halloween 2 definitely doesn’t suck. It’s pretty okay…and there’s nothing wrong with that.

10/1/14 (Part Two): The Buzz is Back

02 Thursday Oct 2014

Posted by phillipkaragas in Uncategorized

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1980s films, 31 Days of Halloween, abandoned amusement park, auteur theory, Bill Johnson, Bill Moseley, black comedies, cannibals, Caroline Williams, Chop-Top, cinema, Dennis Hopper, Drayton Sawyer, dysfunctional family, favorite films, Film auteurs, film reviews, films, horror, horror franchises, horror movies, horror-comedies, Jim Siedow, Ken Evert, Leatherface, Lou Perryman, Movies, radio DJs, roadside chili, sequels, Texas, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Texas Ranger, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, Tobe Hooper

TheTexasChainsawMassacrePart2

As a general rule, there are two ways to approach sequels: filmmakers can take the “more of what they liked” approach and…well…give their audiences more of what they liked the first time. On the other hand, sequels can be conceived as continuing segments of an interconnected story (ala Jackson Lord of the Rings trilogy). The problem with the first method is pretty obvious: the more photocopying you do, the worse the reproductions become. If “Film X” was good, more of the same (Film X #2) should (theoretically) be just as good: if Film X #36 is just the same as the previous 35 editions, however, what’s the point? Despite how much you much may have enjoyed a particular film, would you really want to see the same basic movie all over again with minor tweaks? This, of course, becomes a bit of a moot point for anyone who grew up on ’80s slasher films: despite the fact that very few of these films were directly related, almost all of them managed to seem like generic sequels/copies of the others…call it guilt by association.

The flip side to that argument, however, is what I like to call the “Peter Jackson argument”: does every film need to be split into three equal parts? Trilogies have a long history within the film world but how many legitimate sequels are really necessary? Even something like the Hatchet series, which manages to keep a central narrative thread running through all three (at this point) entries begs the ever-important question: how much do we really need to know about a maniacal killer? There’s a tendency to want to do lots of “world building” in modern films, expanding simple ideas into full-blown mythos that rival the likes of anything Lovecraft or King could imagine: the idea behind this seems to be that “one and done” films miss a ton of marketing/box office potential…what good producer wants to be responsible for passing up all those easy ducats?

By taking one look at the above poster-art for Tobe Hooper’s direct sequel, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 (1986), it should be pretty easy to see that neither direction really appealed to the horror auteur. While the original 1974 film was a lean, mean, claustrophobic and ultra-low budget chiller about a group of friends being summarily ground up by a rampaging family of Texas cannibals, the poster for the late-’80s sequel directly references the previous years The Breakfast Club (1985) (Leatherface as Judd Nelson? Talk about inspired casting!). What gives?  A majority of film-goers and horror fans seemed to cry foul at the film, citing its tongue-in-cheek vibe, heavy-duty ’80sisms and dearth of legitimately sweaty scares as reasons to confine the film to the dustbins of history. Is TCM 2 really that bad? Was it the beginning of the end for the fledgling TCM franchise in the same way that the horrendously lame Hellraiser 3 (1992) should have killed off that series? Absolutely not. In fact, at least as far as my humble little opinion goes, I daresay that not only is Hooper’s sequel a fantastic film, in its own right, it’s a more than worthy followup to its iconic forefather. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it, naysayers!

My main problem with sequels is the inherent wheelspinning involved: not only do sequels inevitably rehash some of the same setpieces/beats from previous entries but they often, by necessity, need to rehash the same plot points (as audience refreshers, if nothing else). In a way, it’s like a champion mountain climber continuously conquering the same craggy peak: the first time you do it, there’s a genuine sense of accomplishment and wonder. The tenth time you do it, however, it probably feels an awful lot like clocking in for a day at the office. Since the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974) was already one of the most notorious, intense and unrelenting films around, how could the filmmakers possibly top it without resorting to completely over-the-top overkill? There is, literally, no way to strip the narrative down any further than the original: the film is already primal enough as it is. Faced with the prospect of making a pale imitation of an accepted classic, however, Hooper took the unexpected turn of making the exact opposite kind of film: rather than stripped-down, drab and serious, Hooper made the follow-up loud, brash, rude, colorful and kind of goofy. More of the same? Not on your life, buddy!

A similar text-crawl to the first film reminds us of the situation behind the original and informs us that the current narrative takes place 12 years later…bringing us, of course, square into the magical ’80s. The action kicks off when a couple of shitty high school guys dick around with the wrong sinister black truck and end up pissing off the Sawyers. As Leatherface (Bill Johnson) is standing atop a moving vehicle, chainsawing one asshat’s head in half, diagonally, the other one is on the phone to a call-in radio show. The soon-to-be ex-douchebags happen to be on the air with DJ Stretch (Caroline Williams) at the time and the intrepid DJ ends up recording the incident. Enter former Texas Ranger Lefty Enright (Dennis Hopper, chewing up scenery and spitting out hot rivets like a Warner Bros. cartoon), who just so happens to be Sally and Franklin Hardesty’s uncle. Sally, we’ll remember, was the original film’s Final Girl and sole survivor, while poor Franklin was the mopey, wheelchair-bound guy who got gutted by a rampaging chainsaw. Seems that Lefty has spent the past 12 years tracking down their killers and, after examining the “accident scene,” has determined that the chainsaw-wielding cannibals are up to their old tricks again. We know that Lefty is right, of course, since we’ve previously gotten a look at a familiar face: Drayton Sawyer (Jim Siedow), the insane cook from the original film, is back as a highly respected member of the local business community and frequent winner of the chili cookoff: “The secret’s in the meat,” he smirks, and we know he ain’t lyin’.

Lefty convinces Stretch to play the tape on the air, despite the protests of her second-in-command/not-in-this-lifetime-suitor L.G. (Lou Perry): Lefty’s plan to draw out the Sawyers is successful, since Stretch ends up with a couple of late-night visitors at the radio station: Leatherface and Chop Top (Bill Moseley). When Lefty is late to protect her, Stretch ends up having to fend off the killers on her own. During their interaction, however, it appears that Leatherface has taken a shine to her…at least, if his grunting, pelvic-thrusting and phallic chainsaw movements are anything to go by. When L.G. returns from a coffee run, he gets unceremoniously pummeled by insane Vietnam vet Chop Top (“Incoming mail!,” he shrieks, splatting L.G.’s noggin into paste in the process) and dragged off to the Sawyer’s secret underground lair (handily located beneath an abandoned amusement park, natch). Like any faithful friend would do, Stretch follows after him, rescue on her mind. For his part, Lefty heads to the amusement park, as well, albeit for a slightly different reason: he’s packing multiple chainsaws and fully intends to smite the heathen Sawyers with a combination of God’s wrath and a little good, old-fashioned extreme bloodshed. As Lefty runs around, sawing support beams in half and attempting to, literally, bring down the house, Stretch must sneak into the proverbial lion’s den and save her friend…or whatever’s left of him. In the process, Stretch will need to become what she struggles against: Hell, truly, hath no fury like a DJ scorned. In the unforgettable words of the original: who will survive…and what will be left of them?

There are a few very important things to keep in mind while watching TCM 2. First of all, the film is just about as different from the first film as possible, despite the fact that both were directed and conceived by Hooper. As mentioned above, the original TCM is almost like a photo-negative of the ultra-colorful sequel. Secondly, the film does function as a direct sequel, even if some of the specifics and timeline events get a little screwy. Drayton, for the most part, is a direct continuation from the first, as is Leatherface (albeit in much more of a “horny teenager” mode here) and Grandpa (Ken Evert). Chop Top, however, is a new construct, although he serves a similar function to Edwin Neal’s hitchhiker in the original. Since Chop Top was never mentioned in the original film, whereas the hitchhiker is never mentioned in the sequel, it’s not much of a stretch to imagine that it’s supposed to be the same fellow (how he survived the Black Maria running over his skull at the climax to the original is a good question, although his metal head plate actually seems to answer this pretty tidily, numerous references to Vietnam notwithstanding). This is all just a long-winded way of saying that TCM 1 and 2 actually fit together pretty well, drastic difference in tone aside. It’s not a perfect fit, mind you, but there’s more of a sense of continuity between these two film than in many more “legitimate” sequel situations.

The third and most important thing to know about TCM 2 is that the film is an absolute blast, almost the complete antithesis to the original’s unrelenting tension. In certain ways, the sequel serves as a sly commentary on the original film: people thought they saw more blood in the original than they did, so Hopper drowned the sequel in outrageously gory setpieces. The original film had a modest, claustrophobic feel, so the sequel feels expansive and expensive. The original was so serious that any attempt at humor felt less like gallow’s humor and more like the rope: the sequel has one goofy setpiece after another (my absolute favorite being the one where Leatherface accidentally chainsaw’s Chop Top’s head, destroying his favorite hairpiece in the process: “You ruined my Sonny Bono wig, you bitch hog!”

Indeed, TCM 2 ends up being a perfect combination of Hooper’s harrowing aesthetic from the first film and the over-the-top atmosphere of most ’80s horror films: everything is blown up to ludicrous proportions here. One of the best examples of this notion in practice is the difference between the Sawyers’ lairs: the farmhouse from the first film will forever stand as a feverish nightmare, while the abandoned amusement park set from the sequel is an eye-popping, Christmas-light-bedecked marvel. For Pete’s sake: TCM 2’s lair features a skeleton riding a bomb, ala Slim Pickens from Dr. Strangelove (1964): it really doesn’t get cooler than that, folks.

Whereas the first film made subtle references to the tide of modernization being responsible for the Sawyers’ situation, the sequel is much more explicit about this. In a film filled with plenty of delicious irony, one of the neatest tidbits is the notion that one of the cities biggest pillars of industry, Drayton Sawyer, is actually the insane head of a secret cannibal family: those damned capitalists! There’s also plenty of rich material evident in things like Chop Top’s plans for his own amusement park (“I’ll call it…NamLand!”) and scenes like the one where Lefty tries to use a disembodied skeleton arm to lift Stretch from a trapdoor, only to have the arm break off at the wrist and send her tumbling down. For all of its sustained carnage, TCM 2 is actually a very funny film.

Which is not, course, to say that it isn’t also 100% a horror film. The opening setpiece, featuring Leatherface riding a moving truck while “wearing” a corpse like a costume, as Oingo Boingo’s “No One Lives Forever,” plays on the soundtrack is a real showstopper, as is the bit where he comes rampaging out of a pitch black room. There’s one scene involving skinning a body that’s more extreme than anything hinted at in the first and Chop Top’s pursuit of Stretch through the compound and up to a hidden aerie is alternately thrilling and nail-biting.

While the film is much more over-the-top than the first, no of the acting manages to seem out-of-place. In particular, Moseley does a career-defining turn as the crazed war vet: the scene where he uses a hanger to scratch the flaking skin on his head, before eating it, is by turns repulsive and awe-inspiring. There’s never a point where Moseley appears to be acting: rather, it seems like they recruited the role from a local loony bin, which is the highest compliment I can pay something attempting to portray “pathologically crazy.”

Truth be told, I unabashedly love The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2. It may not have the same sweaty relevance as the original film but it’s exceptionally well-made, features tons of great practical effects, some stellar villains and amazing set-pieces galore. If there are some elements that fall completely flat (Leatherface newfound sexual interest in Stretch is awkward and never explored to any reasonable measure, although it does although Moseley to prance around shouting, “Bubba’s got a girlfriend…Bubba’s got a girlfriend!” at one point), there are countless other elements that hit the bullseye. I can only assume that folks don’t like The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 because it’s so tonally different from the first one. In my mind, however, that’s one of the film’s biggest charms: Hooper could have gone “cookie-cutter” but he went outside the mold and I think we’re all the richer for it.

Even though the Texas Chainsaw Massacre franchise would sputter to a finish with a couple lame sequels and a 2000-era reboot, nothing could ever tarnish the undiluted majesty of the first two films. The original film is and always will be one of my favorite movies: depending on my mood, the second one is, too. If you consider yourself a fan of the first film but have avoided the second like the plague, do yourself a favor: hold your nose, if you have to, but dive right in. I’m more than willing to wager that you’ll come to love it, too, as long as you keep an open mind. Proving that there’s always an exception to the rule, Hooper’s Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 is almost as strong, although in completely different ways, from the first film. Besides, how could you possibly pass up a chance to watch Dennis Hopper have a chainsaw duel with Leatherface? The answer, obviously, is that you can’t.

 

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